Like the Stars Miss the Sun in the Morning Sky
by scenevampirepuppy
Summary: In which Stiles has a hard time dealing with Derek leaving with Cora, then Derek suddenly shows up after Stiles's loneliest summer and they develop a relationship. Rated for future chapters. Will include a few OCs, but they're important, so. I wasn't sure what categories to put it in...


A/N: Okay, so. This is _obviously_ unbeta-ed and stuff, so. Yeah.

Derek's pretty OOC, and I'm sure almost everyone else will be too. My bad. There will eventually be a few OCs and things like that—they're kind of important though.

This'll end up as a few chapters, not sure how many, but it'll hopefully be more than just a two-shot.

You know how disclaimers always go: I evidently don't own Teen Wolf or the characters or have anything to do with the making of the show. And that's why I'm writing fanfiction of it.

I kinda—and I mean _kinda_—based this off of Storm Song by Phildel and Summertime Sadness by Lana Del Rey. The title is from the Lana Del Rey song.

Oh, and I feel obligated to warn you that, wow– my writing style is _not_ that great in my opinion. It may be in your opinion, just not mine.

It's Sterek, so..don't like, don't read– simple.

Reviews are always cool and appreciated, by the way.

Anyways, I'm pretty sure that's enough of an author's note, eh?

(Also, this is posted on my DeviantArt account under the same username.)

* * *

Everything basically started with Derek and Cora leaving.

Well—not technically. Derek and Stiles's confusing relationship started _way_ before Derek and Cora left. And, really,_ relationship_ isn't exactly the word. It was more in the sense of they tolerated each other in turn for companionship and help when needed. The thing had developed ever since Stiles and Scott stepped foot onto the reserve. It had been nothing but difficult from then on out, but they'd managed.

Somewhere along the way, Stiles figured out that, in all actuality, he'd rather spend his time doing whatever with Derek than he would Scott. Stiles would even trust Derek before he did Scott. That's when it basically started. And maybe what kept it going was Stiles's conflicted resignation that he may even like Derek more than he let on.

Back to the subject at hand, Derek and Cora were leaving. None of the remaining pack knew where they were heading and Stiles was just that slight bit of worried. He didn't actually think too much of it though, just hoped that they would be okay. He desperately hoped that Derek wasn't leaving forever. And Cora, Stiles always guiltily added as an afterthought. It was disconcerting to Stiles that he always regarded Derek leaving, but always had to include Cora into the thought at last minute. Stiles didn't want to pay more attention to it than necessary though. That would always just lead to odd revelations and feelings he wouldn't like to admit to.

Either way, Isaac had tried to pry about where Cora and Derek were going, but always got a silent shrug from Cora and she would look up at Derek, who only scowled in response, resolute to not give away their destination. Stiles would still rather not think about Derek leaving, yet he couldn't help bringing his mind around the subject anyway. He couldn't actually pinpoint why he didn't want to think about it, but he just felt this unsettling feeling of aloneness each time he brought himself _to_ think about it. For someone who didn't want to think about Derek leaving, he sure as hell thought about it a lot. And Stiles was thinking too much about thinking.

Before actually leaving, Scott and Stiles found Derek at the old, burnt-out cocoon of the Hale house, Cora patiently waiting in the Camaro as Derek solemnly looked up at the house. That worried Stiles further, pushing him to come to the painful thought of Derek definitely not returning. They pulled up in the Jeep and Scott fumbled out of the car to stride up to Derek. Stiles couldn't really remember why they had come here exactly, but then he vaguely recalled Scott getting a text from Derek not too long ago. Stiles didn't ask when Scott said they needed to go to the dilapidated house on the reserve. Stiles wasn't sure what he expected to happen once they got here. Derek and Scott appeared to be talking calmly now though, but no thanks to not having werewolf-hearing, Stiles didn't know what about.

Derek had actually been rather quiet since it was decided that Cora and he would be leaving, and for the last few days, it seemed as if Derek was almost distancing himself from the others—not like he didn't do that already, but it was different in a way. It made Stiles, once again, worry. What would make Derek want to cut ties with everyone, everything here in Beacon Hills? Suddenly Stiles could practically feel the silence in the Jeep and he selfishly, seriously needed Scott to just hurry the hell up. Speaking of which, Stiles looked up and out of the slightly dirty windshield—he would really need to remember to wash it later—to see Scott motioning for him to get out and come over to where Derek and he were standing. Being inconspicuous was definitely not Scott's thing and Derek looked back at Stiles idly sitting in the Jeep. Stiles embarrassingly nodded his head at them and Derek rolled his eyes and turned to say something to Scott. When Derek looked back at the house, presumably still talking—maybe; he didn't actually talk much. Ever—, Stiles watched as Scott made an exaggerated head nod at him as if telling him 'get your ass over here now.' Stiles leaned his head back against the headrest, groaning. He sighed, then made to get out of the vehicle.

He calmly walked to where the two werewolves were standing, looking back to see Cora fiddling with the radio in the car. He came to stand beside Derek. He messed with the hem of his hoodie and looked up at the house. He quietly sighed. It wasn't really a depressingly disappointed sigh as much as it was only a 'wow, I didn't know this could be this quiet' kind of sigh. He looked over and up at Derek.

"We'll, uh, see you again, right man?" Stiles stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets as Scott and Derek silently continued to look at the house. Stiles didn't know why the hell he was so distressed about this; it wasn't like Derek and he were anything closely related to friends—frenemies, at most. Maybe. Stiles found himself in denial about what his true opinion of Derek was, but it was more than likely around the relationship-terms of being attracted to Derek. And deep down, Stiles knew that it wasn't just some teenaged breakdown of sexuality, nor was it simply a physical thing. But all this thinking was giving him a headache. The more Stiles thought about Derek's whole 'hey I'm leaving and don't know when I'll be back' thing lately, the more upset he was at the idea—well, not that it was an idea. It was an actual thing that was happening. Right now, Stiles reminded himself, and remembered that he was still waiting for an answer from Derek. Derek gave him a seemingly perplexed look at his question before covering it up with a cold stare. Beta-status definitely didn't downgrade his intimidation skills and his propensity to always give uncaring looks was starting to be a tribulation. Stiles never got an answer and he stayed quiet.

The rest of the goodbye was a blur. He only remembered a communal gesture of parting and next thing Stiles knew, Scott was buckling his seat-belt and Stiles was backing out of the dirt path to the Hale house.

He dropped Scott off at his house; he said a detached goodbye before driving home. His dad had the night-shift tonight, so that left Stiles to his own devices. He grabbed a small snack—and he was fully aware of his appetite. Or his lack, thereof—before trudging up to his bedroom. How could Derek's departure leave him in such a mood? He felt so abandoned and unconnected. Unrightfully so, since Stiles had no idea why he was acting like this. Okay, maybe he did, he just didn't feel like identifying it right now. On some psychological level, he knew something was wrong, but Stiles chose to ignore it for falling face-first onto his bed. He didn't even change—hadn't even thought about it—before he brought his comforter over himself and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

School had went on as normal, save for the slightly depressing mood everyone seemed to be in now. Scott, Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Aiden, Ethan and Stiles remained and it was seemingly taking its toll on the pack. Actually, what pack? Derek and Cora were gone for now, their homecoming indeterminate. Sure, they _did_ have Scott, and Isaac seemed more than enough pro-Scott, but still. It was obviously not the same and Stiles didn't delight in it one bit. It was outlandishly irritating, almost. And Stiles still didn't want to admit to himself that he just simply missed Derek. Maybe it was more of how a person would miss their lover when they weren't together, but Stiles didn't want to acknowledge that fact just yet.

The days dragged on as they turned into weeks, then months and all but Stiles had finally, ostensibly recovered. Stiles would've been very content to carry on that way, but it was Scott that pointed out the dark circles under his eyes, and obvious slip in grades and overall un-hyper attitude, in the end.

Scott stopped him in the hallway on—what, what day was it?

"Stiles," the werewolf used his 'protective peer' voice and Stiles knew something was wrong, "are you okay?"

Stiles gave him a look, opening his mouth, but he didn't get too far before he could well-nigh see the pieces clicking together in Scott's mind. "This isn't about Derek...is it?" Right on the mark, whether Stiles would concede that fact to himself or not. He merely fixed Scott with an indifferent stare and a shrug. Scott sighed.

"We should talk about this, dude," Stiles rolled his eyes. He responded, talking for what Stiles believed to be the actual first time today, "Seriously, I'm okay. Just stressed, I guess. Or tired—or something." He shrugged again, Scott and himself making their way to the school parking lot. That obviously but didn't satiate Scott, but the werewolf didn't bring it up anymore as they pulled out of the parking area.

It was weird, keeping things from Scott, but technically Stiles was keeping things from himself anyway, so he supposed that was just how it worked. He wouldn't admit liking Derek to himself, thus he didn't have to tell Scott about the situation. Right..?

The drive home was relatively silent. Scott hadn't talked since they left the school and it's not like Stiles felt up to speaking right now—or lately at all, really. Scott gave him an apprehensive but mildly irritated look before getting out of the Jeep. Stiles slightly jumped when the passenger door slammed behind him.

* * *

His dad was the second person to call Stiles out on his sluggish appearance that had developed lately. Stiles had just gotten home from school one day, mentally planning the rest of his day around doing bits of homework here and there(maybe), making a healthy dinner for his dad—they definitely had different opinions on what was considered healthy—and then sleeping. The sheriff was sitting at the kitchen table, looking over papers. He'd heard the teen come in and Stiles had barely stepped foot onto the stairs before he was called over into the dining room. Stiles only assumed his dad wanted to know how his day went. When he stepped in front of his father and he looked up, Stiles saw his expression cross from curious to concerned in a split-second.

"Stiles," the teen could tell he put on that whole 'I'm your worried father and this is my serious tone' voice and Stiles was waiting for the interrogation, "is everything okay, son?" Stiles shrugged indifferently. "Yeah, dad. Everything's cool." _'No, everything isn't okay. I realized that I have an unusual love for Derek Hale and now that he's gone, I'm a little depressed,_' didn't seem like an acceptable answer.

It didn't seem to be a sufficient rejoinder for the sheriff, "You're sure?" Stiles had anticipated this response, so he fixed his dad with a fake smile—it was the same smile Stiles would give him back when his mother was dying, and his dad would ask if he was okay. "Yeah, dad. I'm sure."

His father seemed to, well—'give up' didn't seem like the right phrase. It was more like he just accepted defeat. It affected Stiles more than he thought it would've. He'd been prepared for a full-blown investigation. When the sheriff sighed, it was like more weight was added to Stiles's chest. It was uncomfortable and agitating.

Not knowing what to say, Stiles just looked away from his dad and down at the floor. He started to walk away, before his dad spoke up and Stiles was just so close to the stairs, "You know you can tell me anything, right son?"

Stiles closed his eyes, trying to find breath when he suddenly found he had a lack of proper oxygen, "Yeah, dad."

* * *

It was nearing into summer and there was still no sign of Derek and Cora's return. The assholes didn't even send a meager text or care to call or anything. Just up and split and left everyone else floundering. Or maybe that was only Stiles. He was still the only one that had yet to make a complete restoration from the departure. On long days, Stiles found himself longing for those intense sea-green eyes, the rough threats that no longer held any sort of heat behind them, the slight bruising when Derek would run him up against a wall out of frustration—which hadn't actually happened in a while before he left, but still. Stiles pegged it down to the absence of habit, but in the back of his mind, something whispered that it wasn't just that. Missing tendency wouldn't make a person feel this lonely, this discrete. All he wanted these days was to either sleep or be alone, and both usually fell into the same category. He felt as if he seemed borderline depressed and considered actually doing something about it. He legitimately wanted to understand what was going on with himself. It was like he didn't know himself anymore.

The last days of school appeared to protract and Stiles detested it.

* * *

Stiles heard the news from a surprisingly excited Scott. It wasn't Derek's return, but it was close enough; progress, in the least. The old Hale house was scheduled to be torn down and rebuilt according to plans Derek had arranged and set up before leaving. Stiles actually brightened up a bit at the announcement and from that day on, stopped in to check the progress of the house.

Still no calls or texts or anything from Cora and Derek, but Stiles at least had the hope of them coming back—why else would Derek have organized the house to be rebuilt if Cora and he weren't going to be returning?

In the last months of summer vacation, the house was being finished up with just the minor, last-minute fixtures and Stiles drove over with Scott and Isaac one morning before school to see it. Isaac commented on how great it looked and Scott was just exceedingly ecstatic about the huge expanse of green grass and just– _yard_. The house was gorgeous, to say in the least. Standing tall at three stories—well, two main floors, and an attic and basement—and painted a dull, yet aesthetically pleasing blue. Stiles found himself glad that Derek and Cora decided to rebuild the house and not just abandon it, leaving it to rot in place.

* * *

It was the beginning of autumn when Stiles nearly had a heart attack—out of sheer happiness, mind you—at the sight of a familiar face and car outside his house one day in October. Stiles couldn't help but smile as widely as possible and rush outside. He suddenly found himself face to face with Derek, and after all this time, Stiles didn't even think to stop himself when he pulled the werewolf forward into the tightest hug he thinks he's ever managed. It took Derek by surprise, naturally, but after a moment's collecting of thoughts—and perhaps simply getting over his mopey self—Stiles felt Derek's arms encircle him. An extensive flood of warmth overcame him and when he pulled back from the older man, he absently wiped his eyes on his red hoodie sleeve. He chuckled, embarrassed and he was sure as hell that his whole face was flushed dark. He could feel the tips of his ears and he bet that they were the color of his jacket, they were so hot. And excuse him, but he was not some little girl in sixth grade blushing because her crush was talking to her.

"You–heh," Stiles was practically choking on all these emotions, and he had to pause for a mixture of nervous laughing and gasping for air, "you came back, man." He could tell he was short of breath, but Derek only smiled—smiled as much as Derek could manage, anyway; he still had to work on looking like he wasn't going to go on a killing rampage at any given moment. The trip seemed like a good thing, though, if the Sourwolf he's come to know(and love, not that he's admitted that to himself yet) was actually smiling at him.

Stiles peered over into the Camaro, noting that Cora was missing. As if reading his thoughts—more like, I don't know, smelling his emotions or something probably—Derek said, "Cora stayed back in New York to go to school."

Stiles just nodded and smiled stupidly, "Yeah. Yeah, man. That-that's great." He actually meant to genuinely ask Derek how Cora was doing, but, really, at the moment Stiles couldn't think about anything but Derek. Derek Hale was at his house. He was standing outside his house in the Stilinski's driveway. And they'd actually hugged. What great progress they were making, what with how Derek used to slam Stiles into walls. And now, they're hugging in Stiles's driveway. Stiles definitely needed to stop thinking so much about this. But Derek's rarely ever been nice to Stiles and hugging is most definitely a step up. Maybe Derek missed him, Stiles reminded himself. He unconsciously hoped that Derek would miss him more. Then maybe next time that would warrant a kiss–wait. What? Stiles was most decidedly not going to think about that. Well—not right now, anyway. Not by any stretch of the imagination did Stiles want to consider coming to the conclusion that he liked Derek and maybe he just wanted Derek to like him back equally as much right now.

He looked back at Derek, and he wasn't sure when he _had_ looked away. Derek still had that vague smile. Stiles smiled back, not just because Derek was still smiling—well, that was a big majority why—but also because Derek was directing that smile at him. _Him_, Stiles Stilinski. And that was when Stiles had finally, irrevocably realized that he liked Derek. He wanted to be with Derek everyday. Sleep with him in his bed, and wake up right next to him. Stiles wanted to cuddle with him, and kiss him, and just _be safe_ with Derek. But as far as Stiles was sure, that wouldn't happen anytime soon.

Derek ended up inviting Stiles back to the completed Hale house. Stiles had to admit, it was a pretty amazing building now. Not much had been changed about it, in all actuality. The interior build was basically still the same, just different colors and furniture and things. When they'd ended up in the living room, Stiles couldn't help but laugh at the long rectangular picture of a wolf pack in a forest, all gathered together on a rock overlooking a stream.

"What," Derek couldn't hide the laughter in his voice even if he had tried, "you don't like my picture?" Stiles just grinned widely at him.

"Nah, man. It's—" Stiles paused to laugh, covering the bottom half of his smiling face in his hoodie sleeve, "pfft—it's nice, Derek." Derek grinned and nudged Stiles a little in the arm. Derek seemed to be smiling a lot now. Not that Stiles actually opposed to that. Hell no, he just wished it would've happened sooner. Apparently that trip was all Derek needed to clear his system and mind and actually learn how to, oh I don't know—how to enjoy life again. And contrary to assumption, Stiles hadn't been thinking that in a bad way. Stiles just kind of though that Derek maybe didn't get his full enjoyment out of life, what with taking care of the pack and the things that happened and revolved around said pack, not to mention his past in whole.

Stiles remembered that he was veritably having a conversation at the moment and all he could manage to do was smile like a love-sick idiot and try to make cute jokes—which probably wasn't working towards anything, whatsoever. Derek threw an arm around Stiles's shoulder and the teen practically had to hold in all his excitement. "Don't make fun of my decor, asshole."

That evening was filled with cute, witty banter and Stiles could've sworn that, at times, Derek had been flirting with him. Not that Stiles could prove it, but, y'know, he believed that the werewolf had been reduced to high school talk. And Stiles would maybe never admit to flirting back.

It was a weird night, all in all. Especially when Derek asked Stiles if he wanted to stay for dinner("I wanted to break in the new kitchen.")

"So, I think Scott's mad at me. I don't know why though," okay, maybe Stiles did know why Scott was mad at him. And it was only because Stiles wouldn't admit to him that his whole depression thing was because of Derek being gone.

"He's a dick," Derek said it as if they were talking about everyday things—like the weather; that's a usual thing people use for example. Stiles just continued to eat. He would have to make Derek make him food more often; he was a wonderful damn cook. Stiles held in what probably would be considered a lewd noise as he stuck a forkful of roast beef into his mouth.

It was _almost_ just plain weird to be sitting and having civil conversations with Derek Hale over dinner. That Derek cooked. Like, what _was_ Stiles's life now? When they were done with their dinners, Derek took both of their plate to the sink and just dropped them in. The werewolf looked over at him and Stiles noticed that he'd actually been staring. Stiles shrugged, "You really _are_ a civil person." And Derek just smiled and laughed at his comment.

Stiles now loved that he was able to dissolve Derek into a fit of laughter and grins. Stiles, also, loved that he absent-mindedly used the word 'love' when he was regarding Derek. And, once again, he now also loved Derek's smile. He could practically feel himself falling in love with that smile. It was almost like it was a thing reserved just for Stiles(despite the fact that he hadn't seen Derek react around anyone else today, so he really didn't have anything to compare Derek's behavior to.) When Stiles brought up the fact that he had to go home, Derek offered to drive him back to the Stilinski household.

In seemingly no time at all, they were back where they started today. Stiles shrugged off the fact that Derek got out of the car to walk with the teen to his front door. Once they were just standing there at the door, Stiles turned around and looked up at the werewolf. He disregarded the stars shining out in the sky behind them, spread out amongst a deep navy and black backdrop like sequins. The teen only looked into the sea-green eyes that were suddenly a lot closer now than he remembered them being.

He suddenly realized that he was looking at Derek's closed eyelids and he felt the werewolf's lips on his. And the only thing that registered in his mind as weird was the fact that he wasn't kissing Derek back yet.

He aimlessly grabbed onto the werewolf's jacket lapels and pulled him forward. His eyes fell closed and he could feel Derek hesitantly place his hands onto the teen's waist. And that was when Stiles let the most embarrassingly needy sound he'd ever made escape his mouth. He quickly broke the kiss and dropped his forehead on Derek's shoulder, nervously laughing into the leather.

"Heh–um," Stiles felt like if his face got any hotter, Derek would surely be able to feel it through his clothes, "I, uh–that sound wasn't supposed to happen." He let out another shy titter. Derek just flashed him a spectacular and genuine smile, and kissed him on the cheek.

"I like it," Derek propped his chin on top of Stiles's head, "and I like you." And Stiles was pretty sure that was the best thing he'd ever heard come from Derek's mouth.

Stiles's arms wound their way around Derek's neck of their own accord, Derek pulled back from Stiles's head at the same time Stiles moved his head from its perch on Derek's shoulder. They were practically in sync and the point was only further proven when they both moved in for another kiss. The teen let out a contented sigh and his fingers played with the tips of Derek's hair. Stiles hadn't taken notice of Derek gently moving him up against the front door until he felt the ridges in the door press against his back. And then it was like every line, every dip and contour of their bodies fit together in the most perfect way possible. Stiles broke the kiss and a breathy gasp made its way out his throat. Stiles vaguely observed the way Derek tried to press closer to him, forcing Stiles's body to press against the door further. Stiles's hands slipped from Derek's shoulders and fell onto the werewolf's chest. Stiles chuckled nervously for what felt like the umpteenth time that day. Derek brought a hand up and brushed a thumb across Stiles's red cheek and the teen leaned into the touch, smiling up at the other.

"I guess I should let you go in now," Derek chuckled and Stiles felt a sudden surge of courage. Even so, he was surprised when he heard himself say, "Or you could come inside with me." And Stiles could promise anyone that Derek's eyebrows went up to his damn hairline. Stiles was also glad that he remembered that his dad had the night-shift tonight because his mind-to-mouth filter wasn't working; it never did.

"Heh–um. That's not what I meant," Derek gave him a skeptical look.

"Actually? Okay, yeah. That's exactly what I meant. And you totally don't even have to listen to me at this point 'cause now I'm just a bundle of nervous rambling and–"

"That'd be nice," Derek paused to peck the other's lips, "but Stiles, you're only seventeen. Plus, what would your father do in the morning when he walks into your room and finds you cuddling with the criminal Derek Hale? He'd probably shoot me."

"But you're not a criminal," and really? That was his only response, his best argument? And since when was Derek Hale able to reduce his thinking capacity to that of, well– see? Stiles just can't think right now. Especially not when Derek was standing this close. It was all Derek's fault, obviously.

"Stiles, I really would like to come inside with you, but you know I can't."

Derek had been gone for the majority of the summer—even a little more than that. He just suddenly up and pops back into Beacon Hills. He shows up in Stiles's driveway. They even had dinner—together, Stiles mentally adds. And Derek refused to come inside his house. Not even to resume making out. What person does that? Derek had evidently missed him and Stiles really had missed him.

Derek leaned down again for what felt would be the last time that night, "Goodnight Stiles."

Stiles smiled and he would later notice that all he felt at this moment was adoration and love. The teen turned to go inside, "Night not-so-Sourwolf," Derek laughed at the new nickname that Stiles was sure would catch on sometime, "and I'm glad you came back."

"Me too."


End file.
